KATIE 
o/BIRDLAND 


EDITH  KINNEY  STELLMANN 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORtil 

AT   LOS  ANGELES 


ROBERT  ERNEST  COWAN 


ROBERT  ERNEST  COWAN 


KATIE  o/BIRDLAND 


C~7 


\  C         -*-    >    -L 


o 


cA Beautiful 
Lake  Where 

I  Fed  the 
Ducks  Pieces 

of  Bread 


Katie  o/Birdland 

An  Idyl  of  the  Aviary  in  Golden 
Gate  Park  /  By  Sdith  Kinney  Stellmann 

cAuthorof" Exposition  Babies" 


Illustrated  with 

Special  Camera  Studies  by 

Louis  J  i  Stellmann 


San  Francisco 

H  f  S'  Crocker  Company 
Publishers 


Copyright,  1917 

Louis  J.  Stellmann 

San  Francisco 


'•Dedication 

Oh,  birds:  lucky  creatures  of  air! 
Whose  wings  bear  you  srwiftly  on  high 

To  a  place  'where  you  scan 

All  the  doings  of  £Man, 
^Do  you  laugh  at  him,  birds,  on  the  sly— 

When  he  foolishly  shows 

oAll  the  little  he  knorws;- 
Or  do  you  look  down  'with  a  sigh? 

—Edith  Kinney  Stellmann 


KATIE  o/BIRDLAND 


KATIE  of  BIRDLAND 


Q 


F  all  the  thousands 
who  visit  Golden  Gate  Park,  only  a  very 
few  see  the  Aviary.  They  go  to  the 
Museum,  the  Conservatory,  the  Music 
Stand,  the  Tennis  Court  and  the  Ani' 
mals,  and  most  of  them  do  not  even  know 
that  on  one  of  the  tiny  hills,  almost  hid- 
den by  trees,  within  a  stone's  throw  of 
the  many  more  conspicuous  attractions 
that  surround  it,  is  a  little  world  of  birds. 
There  are  cages  so  large  that  the  little 
winged  folk  inside  of  them  scarcely  real' 
ise  that  they  have  not  the  freedom  of 


An  Idyl  of 
Golden 
Gate  Park 


Katie  of 
Birdland 


the  universe.  Nor  do  they  know  that 
the  great  stretch  of  three  dimension  wire 
walls,  which  keep  them  in,  are  also  for 
the  purpose  of  keeping  out  cruel  enemies 
of  their  own  kind  who  would  prey  upon 
them,  from  the  belligerent  sparrows, 
which  are  not  much  larger  than  the 
canaries  themselves,  to  the  big  hawks 
which  circle  far  up  into  the  sky. 

There  are  many  of  these  wire  houses, 
because  feathered  folk  don^t  know  much 
more  about  brotherly  love  than  Humans 
and,  if  they  were  all  put  into  a  single 
domicile-no  matter  how  large-they 
would  scold  and  fight  and  even  kill  one 
another  over  something  to  eat,  a  place 
in  the  sun,  a  choice  apartment  in  some 
particular  tree  or,  perhaps,  jealousy 
about  a  lady  bird. 

Altogether  they  are  very  much  like 
people  in  their  habits,  emotions  and  adts. 
One  may  learn  a  great  deal  in  the  Aviary. 

In  the  first  place,  it  is  a  lovely  spot, 


Katie  of 
Birdland 


especially  in  the  early  morning,  when 
the  air  is  crisp  and  fine  and  the  sunlight 
splashes  through  the  leaves,  dappling 
the  ground  with  spots  of  gold;  and,  in 
the  second  place,  it  is  exceedingly  inter' 
esting,  because  there  are  so  many  feath- 
ered inhabitants  of  the  wire  houses- 
hundreds  of  different  kinds  and  colors 
and  shapes,  from  the  King  and  Queen 
of  the  Aviary,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bald  Eagle, 
to  the  tiniest  finches,  canaries  and  Japa- 
nese Love  birds  so  small  that  they  look 
like  little  red  and  yellow  dots  of  bright- 
ness on  the  golden-green  background 
of  the  sunlit  grass. 

Long  ago  I  discovered  this  country 
of  Birdland  and  always  it  seemed  to  me 
like  an  enchanted  realm.  Many  and 
many  a  time,  I  have  expected  some  of 
the  feathered  citizens  to  address  me  and 
often  I  have  talked  to  them  and  received 
answers  which  I  could  not  understand 
but  which  I  felt  certain  would  be  per- 


fedtly  intelligible  to  anyone  who  had 
learned  the  Bird  Talk. 

Something  of  all  this  I  have  confided 
to  old  Mr.  Proud,  who  is  father  to  the 
people  of  the  Aviary.  All  the  birds  love 
him,  not  only  because  he  feeds  them, 
but  because  they  know  he  is  to  be 
trusted  and  that  he  wishes  them  well. 

He  laughs  when  I  talk  of  such  things, 
my  old  friend,  but  in  his  heart  I  think 
he  believes  them  himself,  and  not  long 
ago  he  made  an  admission  which  led 
to  the  wonderful  adventure  that  is  re- 
sponsible for  this  book. 

There  was  something  mystic  and  un- 
usual in  the  air  that  morning,  at  least 
it  seemed  so  to  me.  Mr.  Proud  stood  with 
a  brilliant  little  paroquet  on  each  hand. 
They  were  chattering  away  to  him  and 
one  of  them  was  trying  to  explain  which 
of  his  companions  had  taken  a  bite  out 
of  his  neck  during  a  family  discussion 
on  the  evening  before.  The  old  man 


Katie  of 
Birdland 


Katie  of 
Birdland 


Old  SMr. 

fraud  and 
the  Paroquets 


looked  very  sympathetic  and  applied 
some  healing  remedies  to  the  wound. 

"Mebbe  you're  right,"  he  said,"These 
little  fellows  could  be  taught  to  say 
words  just  like  parrots  and  mebbe  they 
think,  too,  like  ourselves.  There's  one 
of  those  pheasants  over  there-little 
Katie-that's  the  smartest  bird  in  the 
whole  Aviary.  If  she  could  talk,  she 
could  tell  you  about  everything."" 

He  picked  up  a  pail  of  feed  and  ambled 
off  in  the  direction  of  the  pheasant  house. 

"Come  along  with  me,"  he  called  over 
his  shoulder,  "and  I'll  introduce  you  to 
Katie.  Mebbe  she'll  give  you  an  inter- 
view when  she  finds  out  you're  one  of 
those  writer-folks." 

Into  the  round  house  belonging  to 
the  pheasants  I  followed  Mr.  Proud. 
He  waved  his  hand. 

"This  is  Katie,  Ma'am,"  he  said,  with 
a  sly  wink.  "Now,  Katie,  you  be  a  good 
girl  and  give  this  lady  an  interview." 


Katie  of 
Birdland 


Katie  of 
Birdland 


10 


It  was  easy  to  see  why  my  old  friend 
thought  so  much  of  Katie.  She  was 
wonderfully  dainty  and  graceful-not  a 
bit  afraid-and  she  had  the  knowingest 
expression  in  her  bright,  dancing  eyes 
I  have  ever  seen. 

"Yes,  indeed,"  I  said,  "she's  a  smart  little 
lady.  To  what  family  does  she  belong?" 

There  was  no  answer  for  a  moment. 
My  old  friend  had  gone  on  with  his  pail 
and  left  me  behind.  Then  the  quaintest, 
softest,  most  musical,  little  voice  you 
could  possibly  imagine  said, near  my  feet: 
"I  am  a  Lady  Amsherst." 

I  gasped  with  astonishment.  There 
stood  Katie  looking  up  at  me,  with  her 
head  cocked  on  one  side,  evidently  ready 
for  further  conversation.  In  fad:,  when  I 
made  no  response  but  kept  staring  down 
at  her  with  my  mouth  open,  she  added, 
"You  may  not  know  it,  but  you  belong 
to  the  pheasant  family  yourself!' 

There  came  to  my  mind  something 


Katie  of 
Birdland 


that  an  old  Mystic  had  told  me  long  ago- 
a  quaint  bit  of  Oriental  symbolism-to 
the  effedt  that  every  Human  finds  his 
counterpart  in  bird  or  beast.  He  had 
even  classified  me  in  detail. 

" Why,  ye-s,"  I  stammered.  "1  am  a 
Golden  Pheasant." 

"Quite  right,"  said  Katie  in  her  de- 
cided way,  "and  that  makes  us  first 
cousins." 

I  ^vas  pleased,  I  can  tell  you,  to  be 
taken  right  into  the  family  that  way, 
so  I  smiled  and  cocked  my  head  as 
neatly  as  I  could. 

"Would  you  like  to  take  a  walk  about 
the  Aviary?"  asked  Katie.  "I  can  tell  you 
ail  about  the  birds.  Come  on.  We  will 
chat  as  we  go." 

"Nothing  would  please  me  better,"  I 
agreed  heartily,  so  we  started. 

"I  hope  you  won't  mind  my  saying 
what  I  think  about  the  Reeves  branch 
of  the  family,"  said  Katie,  deprecatingly, 


as  we  passed  a  handsome  but  cross-look' 
ing  pheasant  who  was  scolding  his  wife 
and  glaring  in  a  very  hostile  way  at  one 
of  his  neighbors.  "I  don't  like  to  speak 
ill  of  anybody,  but"-and  here  she  sud- 
denly raised  her  voice,  "some  people 
think  they're  just  too  smart!" 

Mr.  Proud  had  spoken  of  this  very 
Reeves  pheasant  a  few  days  before  and 
rubbed  a  red  spot  on  his  nose  where 
the  irate  bird  had  pecked  at  him,  in  a 
fit  of  temper  at  feeding  time,  so  I  felt 
disposed  to  agree  with  Katie  and  enjoyed 
the  snub  she  had  given  her  ill-natured 
cousin.  As  for  the  Reeves  pheasant, 
he  made  some  sneering  remark  about 
the  beauty  of  minding  one's  own  busi- 
ness and  turned  his  back  upon  us. 

"I  suppose,"  said  Katie  seriously,  "there 
has  to  be  a  black  sheep  in  every  family, 
but  I  can't  for  the  life  of  me  understand 
what  makes  Sam  Reeves  ad;  that  way. 
He  has  a  good  home  and  his  health  is 


Katie  of 
Birdland 

13 


Katie  of 
Birdland 

14 


The  Silver 
Pheasant 


fair,  except  for  a  little  indigestion  which 
comes  from  his  fits  of  temper.  Some  of 
the  young  hen  pheasants,  who  think  he 
is  very  handsome,  blame  his  wife,  but  I 
don't.  Sally  Reeves  may  have  her  share 
of  temper,  but  it  would  irritate  the  Dove 
of  Peace  herself  to  live  with  Sam." 

"That's  very,  very  true,"  agreed  a  Silver 
pheasant  who  stepped  up  to  us  just  then. 

"You  will  pardon  me.  I  couldn't  help 
overhearing  and  I  just  had  to  say  what 
I  thought  of  that  Sam— 'Handsome  is  as 
handsome  does'— that's  the  way  I  look 
at  it." 

The  Silver  pheasant  looked  a  little 
out  of  form.  He  had  lost  a  couple  of 
his  lovely  tail  feathers  and,  as  he  lives 
quite  near  the  Reeves  bird  and  is  said 
to  be  fond  of  Sally,  I  formed  my  own 
conclusions  as  to  the  cause  of  his  ap' 
pearance  and  remarks-even  though  I 
agreed  with  the  latter. 

Katie  was  quite  sympathetic  about 


Katie  of 
Birdland 

15 


Katie  of 
Birdland 

16 


the  tail  and  we  left  the  Silver  pheasant 
somewhat  comforted.  As  we  turned 
away  Katie  raised  her  voice  again  and 
remarked:  "The  Silver  pheasants  are  all 
as  charming  as  they  are  good  looking," 
which  made  our  late  companion  strut 
and  preen  himself  a  bit. 

"Yes,  indeed,  I  am  sure  that  is  true," 
I  answered  quickly,  raising  my  voice,  also . 
Katie  gave  a  soft,  little  laugh  as  though 
she  enjoyed  the  bit  of  flattery  she  be' 
stowed.  "That  makes  up  for  the  unkind 
remark  I  made," she  said,  "and  it's  per' 
fectly  true.  The  Silver  pheasants  are  nice 
birds-and  the  Golden  pheasants  are  even 
nicer."  She  gave  me  a  sidelong  glance, 
full  of  mischief  and  I  was  rather  embar' 
rassed,so  I  made  no  reply,  but  did  my 
best  to  look  like  a  bird. 

"Na'a'a"n'a'rrr'um!"  I  heard  in  a  pro' 
longed  croon,  like  a  chant,  over  my  head, 
followed  by  a  brushing,  scraping  noise. 
We  looked  up  and  saw  a  large  peacock 


The  Leaf 
bordered 
<Path  to 
Birdland 


Katie  of 
Birdland 

18 


alight  on  the  wire  netting  above.  He 
perked  his  head  vainly  and  said:  "Here 
I  am.  Don  1 1  look  fine?  Well,  I  should 
say  so!" 

Katie  was  distressed  by  this  show 
of  vanity  and  looked  rather  sternly 
at  the  gorgeous  visitor,  but  the  pea' 
cock  was  conscious  of  nothing  save  his 
own  lordly  self.  He  spread  his  beauti- 
ful tail  feathers  to  their  utmost  capacity 
and  turned  slowly  as  though  he  feared 
too  sudden  a  revelation  of  his  splendors 
might  overwhelm  us.  It  was  a  wonder" 
ful  display  and  I  caught  my  breath  with 
admiration,  but  Katie  was  not  a  bit  im' 
pressed. 

"I  consider  such  pride  the  height  of 
vulgarity,"  she  cried,  and  the  peacock, 
hearing  her,  flew  off  in  high  dudgeon. 
I  thought  Mr.  Peacock  had  rather  too 
good  an  opinion  of  himself  for  good 
taste,  but  I  have  a  failing  for  the  gor- 
geous  bird. 


"Perhaps  he  can't  help  it,"  I  ventured. 
"He's  very  famous,  you  know.  In  olden 
days  he  'was  held  sacred  to  the  God' 
dess  Juno." 

"Well,  that  didn't  keep  Quintus  Some- 
bodyor'Other  from  serving  him  at  a 
banquet,"  said  Katie  disdainfully.  "These 
prize  beauties  seldom  have  any  brains." 
We  dismissed  the  subjed:  by  common 
consent  as  we  turned  into  the  leafbor' 
dered  path  that  led  to  the  largest  of 
the  bird  palaces. 

On  the  way,  we  passed  several  smaller 
houses,  where  birds  of  prey,  who  cannot 
be  trusted  with  their  more  peaceable 
brothers  and  sisters,  dwell  in  solitary 
dignity.  In  one  of  these,  five  owls  blinked 
mournfully  and  yawned  prodigiously. 
It  gave  me  a  drowsy  feeling  just  to  look 
at  them. 

"They're  terribly  sleepy-and  who 
wouldn't  be,  if  he  sat  up  all  night?" 
laughed  Katie.  "Some  people  think  they 


Katie  of 
Birdland 

19 


Katie  of 
Birdland 


20 


«5Vfr.  Bald 


set  a  very  bad  example  to  the  young 
birds,  but  one  must  remember  that  it's 
their  nature-they  can't  help  it,  so  we 
shouldn't  blame  them,  should  we?" 

An  old  owl  heard  her.  "Humph!"  he 
grunted.  "People  are  always  blaming 
their  neighbors  without  taking  the  trou' 
ble  to  inquire  into  the  cause  of  their  com- 
plaints. That's  the  way  with  the  world. 
Folks  seldom  give  others  credit  for  the 
good  they  do.  They  take  that  for  granted 
and  never  balance  it  against  the  bad. 
Now  we  eat  a  heap  of  rats  and  mice  and 
keep  the  place  safe  for  the  young  birds, 
but  nobody  thinks  of  that.  We're  called 
dissipated  and  wicked  merely  because 
we  have  a  different  way  of  spending 
our  days  and  nights  from  others.  That's 
the  way  with  folks- what's  unfamiliar 
to  them  is  always  condemned." 

"Good  for  you,  Bill!"  said  another  owl. 
"And  I'll  tell  you  something  else:  Besides 
being  scavengers  we're  very  intellectual. 


Katie  of 
Birdland 


2,1 


Katie  of 
Birdland 


We  know  more  than  most  birds.  It 
doesn't  look  like  rain,  does  it?  Well, 
just  you  watch!  The  drops  are  coming 
down  pretty  soon.  Just  you  watch!"  He 
gave  a  long  chuckle  and  then  his  head 
sank  forward;  soon  a  soft  snore  showed 
that  he  had  relapsed  into  slumber. 

We  passed  on  to  the  next  cage,  where 
the  great  American  Bald  Eagle,  with 
regal  dignity,  sat  on  his  high  perch.  I 
could  almost  see  a  pennant  with  "E 
Pluribus  Unum"  under  him.  He  looked 
down  very  sternly,  like  a  monarch-as 
indeed  he  truly  is-and  instinctively  I 
saluted  him  as  I  would  the  American 
flag,  for  he  seemed  just  as  much  repre' 
sentative  of  the  nation. 

"I  wish  you  wouldn't  glare  so,"  said 
Katie  nervously. 

"One  must  preserve  one's  dignity," 
said  the  eagle  mildly,  "especially  when 
one  is  the  emblem  of  the  greatest  coun 
try  on  earth." 


Katie  of 
Birdland 

24 


"Is  that  really  true?"  asked  Katie,  low- 
ering her  tone-a  bit  awed.  "I  know 
he  is  King  of  the  Birds,  but  I  didn't  re- 
afe  that  he  was  so  important  to  Hu- 
mans as  all  that." 

I  nodded  vigorously  and  we  tiptoed 
on,  quite  impressed  by  the  grand  air  of 
the  Bird  Sovereign. 

In  one  of  the  biggest  of  the  wire 
houses,  we  found  a  lot  of  Mandarin 
ducks.  Some  of  them  were  splashed 
with  mud  and  none  of  them  looked  the 
least  dignified,  which  was  something  of 
a  relief  after  our  visits  to  the  Eagle  and 
Owls.  The  ducks  looked  so  awkward, 
comfortable  and  good  natured,  that 
we  just  loved  them.  Certain  of  the  ducks 
make  their  home  in  a  beautiful  lake  quite 
a  distance  from  the  Aviary  where  I  had 
sometimes  visited  them  and  fed  them 
pieces  of  bread,  but  the  rarer  and  more 
interesting  kinds  abide  in  the  great  net- 
covered  compound  of  the  Mandarins. 


Mr.  Proud  had  fashioned  a  fine,  new 
nest  for  the  Mandarins  by  suspending 
a  keg-both  ends  knocked  out  of  it- 
over  a  tiny  pond  by  means  of  wires 
fastened  to  a  tree'bough  above.  They 
were  all  very  busy  and  few  of  them 
vouchsafed  us  so  much  as  a  glance. 
One  elderly  drake,  who  seemed  to  be 
the  father  of  the  brood,  finally  turned 
to  us  and  said,  apologetically,  "This  is  a 
fine  nest,  but  it  will  take  a  lot  of  fixing. 
Humans  can  only  go  so  far.  Our  own 
people  must  always  put  the  finishing 
touches  on  anything  like  this." 

"Yes,  indeed,"  confirmed  a  fat  duck, 
waddling  up,  "yes,  indeed-that's  right. 
Excuse  us,  won't  you?  We're  very  busy. 
Yes,  indeed!" 

She  pulled  out  a  few  of  her  feathers, 
which  she  proudly  deposited  in  the  bot' 
torn  of  the  keg  and  then  looked  rather 
covetously  at  Katie's  fine  coat  as  though 
she  would  have  liked  a  contribution.  The 


Katie  of 
Birdland 

25 


glance  was  not  lost  on  my  little  friend. 

"Let  us  move  on,"  she  said  hastily. 

"Well,  good  bye, then,"  piped  a  quaint 
little  voice  which  seemed  to  come  al" 
most  from  beneath  our  feet,  and  we  saw 
a  wee  quail  which  was  standing  so  still, 
we  should  not  have  noticed  her  at  all 
if  she  hadn't  spoken.  Katie  said  fare' 
well  to  the  tiny  stranger  and  I  learned 
from  my  companion  that  the  quail  had 
shocked  her  family  and  friends  by  refus' 
ing  to  leave  the  Mandarin  ducks- 
though  her  people  lived  on  the  other 
side  of  the  Aviary. 

"Perhaps  she  wants  to  study  the 
Orientals,"  I  suggested. 

"Maybe,"  agreed  Katie,  "but  I  think 
the  real  reason  is  that  the  food  is  more 
plentiful  over  here.  The  ducks  are  slow 
and  this  little  quail,  who  is  very  quick 
in  her  movements,  can  pick  up  more 
grain  than  among  her  own  kind  where 
the  competition  is  stronger." 


Katie  of 
Birdland 

27 


Katie  of 
Birdland 

28 


"Why,  the  mercenary  little  wretch!" 
I  exclaimed  in  disappointment.  "I 
thought  it  was  love  for  the  ducks  that 
made  her  stay  here." 

"Well,  you  never  can  tell,"  returned 
Katie,  wisely  wagging  her  head,  "and 
these  days  when  the  Competitive 
System  is  so  strong  that  all  the  Humans 
are  writing  and  speechifying  about  it, 
you  can't  blame  a  little  quail  for  look' 
ing  after  her  stomach." 

"No,"  said  I,  "that  is  true,  but  how 
did  you  learn  about  the  Competitive 
System?" 

"Oh,  we  birds  learn  a  great  deal  of 
what  is  going  on  in  the  world,"  replied 
Katie.  "The  sparrows  and  humming 
birds  tell  us.  They  are  always  trying 
to  persuade  the  little  birds  to  escape 
from  their  cages  and  come  out  into  the 
Larger  Life,  as  they  call  it.  But  the 
little  birds  know  better.  They  don't 
trust  the  sparrows,  who  are  the  natu' 


Katie  of 
Birdland 

30 


ral  enemies  of  the  tiny  feathered  people. 
Come,  we  will  visit  some  of  them." 

We  entered  the  largest  of  the  wire- 
houses  and  jit  was  our  good  luck  to 
reach  there  just  as  our  old  friend,  Mr. 
Proud,  arrived  with  a  pail  full  of  feed. 
He  called  to  the  birds  and  they  came 
flying  from  everywhere  to  have  their 
morning  meal.  Katie  introduced  me  to 
a  large  number  of  wee  birds,  including 
the  Sociable  birds,  the  dear,  little 
Chinese  Love  birds,  some  Linnets  and 
Finches,  a  Java  sparrow  and  a  Japanese 
robin.  The  Finch  family  was  quite 
numerous.  I  can  remember  only  a  few 
of  their  names,  some  of  which  were 
very  appetising  and  spicy,  such  as  Mr. 
Strawberry  Finch  and  Mr.  Nutmeg 
Finch,  and  there  was  also  a  fat,  little 
bird  of  exceedingly  prosperous  appear- 
ance, whose  name  was  Mr.  Gold  Finch. 

They  all  talked  very  rapidly  and 
made  such  a  babel  of  piping  sounds 


that  I  could  not  understand  much  of 
their  conversation,  but  they  seemed 
unusually  harmonious  for  their  manner 
was  polite,  ever  affectionate  toward 
one  another,  and  it  was  a  joy  to  watch 
them. 

"We  mustn't  stay  too  long,"  Katie 
finally  reminded  me,  "because  they  are 
a  bit  shy  before  strangers  and  can  eat 
more  comfortably  when  they  haven't 
any  company,"  so  we  walked  on  and 
entered  another  big  house  across  the 
main  aisle  of  the  Aviary. 

Here  I  heard  some  very  fine  bird 
music  and  when  I  asked  Katie  to  intro' 
duce  the  singer,  she  persuaded  a  sweet, 
little  thrush,  who  was  trying  to  hide 
in  a  tree,  to  come  forward. 

Miss  Thrush  was  quite  bashful  and 
seemed  embarrassed  when  I  told  her 
what  a  fine  voice  she  had  and  how 
much  I  enjoyed  her  song.  She  retired 
as  soon  as  politeness  permitted,  with  a 


Katie  of 
Birdland 


Katie  of 
Birdland 


The 

Melancholy 
Turkey 


shy  word  of  gratitude  and  pretty  soon 
I  heard  her  warbling  and  trilling  again, 
from  some  unseen  source. 

"I  am  glad  you  paid  her  such  a  com' 
pliment,"  said  Katie  to  me.  "The 
thrushes  are  all  very  modest  and  a 
word  of  praise,  now  and  then,  is  good 
for  them." 

Quite  a  flock  of  pigeons  flew  over 
our  heads  and  called  out  greetings  to 
Katie  and  me.  They  were  so  cordial 
and  neighborly  that  I  felt  very  much 
at  home  with  them  and  was  thankful 
that  I  had  never  eaten  any  squab. 

Among  the  branches  of  a  gnarly,  old 
tree,  some  beautiful,  white  doves  sat, 
picturesquely  billing  and  cooing.  They 
stopped  as  we  approached  and  looked 
at  me  a  bit  dubiously  until  Katie  came 
forward  as  my  sponsor.  They  wel' 
corned  me  warmly  when  Katie  told 
them  I  believed  most  thoroughly  in 
Peace.  We  had  quite  a  discussion  of 


Katie  of 
Birdland 

33 


Katie  of 
Birdland 

34 


this  subject.  They  have  formed  a  Peace 
Society  and  are  working  very  hard  to 
stop  warfare  and  strife  of  all  kinds.  Some 
of  them  were  a  bit  discouraged  by  the 
terrible  battles  in  Europe,  but  most  of 
them  were  hopeful;  they  said  that,  some' 
time  in  the  future,  birds  and  men  too 
would  get  together  and  talk  their  differ- 
ences over  calmly  and  sensibly  instead 
of  shooting  each  other  by  the  millions, 
over  disputes  which  nobody  really  un- 
derstood.  Some  of  them  favored  Pre- 
paredness and  others  were  seriously 
opposed  to  it,  but  they  didn't  fight  about 
the  best  methods  to  achieve  Peace, 
which  seemed  quite  encouraging  when 
I  stopped  to  consider  the  way  men  go 
about  such  things. 

After  we  said  goodbye  to  the  doves, 
we  encountered  a  large,  white  turkey 
of  melancholy  mien,  who  asked  quite 
solemnly,  "Have  you  seen  anything  of 
my  Lady?" 


Katie  of 
Birdland 

35 


Mr.  Owl,  the 

Weather 

Prophet 


Katie  of 
Birdland 

36 


"He  means  his  wife,"  Katie  whispered 
to  me,  and  shook  her  head  whereupon 
the  turkey  gobbled  sadly  and  went  on, 
searching  in  the  most  unlikely  places  and 
never  stopping  a  minute  to  rest. 

"That's  a  very  sad  case,"  Katie  told 
me.  "They  were  a  handsome  couple'" 
he  and  his  wife.  She  was  a  bit  wild, 
some  said,  but  anyone  could  see  they 
were  in  love  with  each  other.  Well, 
one  day  she  disappeared.  Of  course 
there  was  all  sorts  of  gossip  and  scandal 
but  nobody  really  knows  where  she 
went  and  he  still  believes  that  some 
day  she  will  turn  up,  though  everyone 
else  has  given  up  hope.  I  think  grief 
has  affected  his  mind,  poor  dear!" 
Katie  again  shook  her  head  mournfully. 
I  met  a  crested  Mocking  bird  from 
Japan,  who  appeared  quite  a  gentleman 
and  said  he  hoped  our  respective  na' 
tions  would  always  be  on  good  terms 
in  spite  of  the  "jingoes"  as  he  called 


them.  I  agreed  with  him  heartily.  We 
stopped  to  listen  to  an  English  Black- 
bird, who  was  making  what  sounded 
like  a  long,  dry  talk  on  Peace  and  War 
and  the  causes  back  of  them. 

"That  fellow's  something  of  a  bore," 
said  Katie.  "They  tell  me  he  is  terri- 
bly hen-pecked  and  scarcely  gets  a 
chance  to  open  his  mouth  at  home, 
and  so  I  suppose  the  poor  fellow  im- 
proves his  opportunity  whenever  he 
can  get  anybody  to  listen  to  him.  The 
skylarks  are  always  teasing  him.  There 
they  are  now,  just  listen  to  them!" 

Very  gay  and  a  bit  dissipated  look- 
ing were  the  skylarks,  as  they  flew  over 
the  head  of  the  orator,  calling  out  to 
him  and  his  audience:  "Oh,  come  on 
and  have  a  good  time.  Don't  be  so 
serious.  It  never  does  any  good.  For- 
get your  troubles  and  join  us.  We're 
out  for  a  good  time." 

Some  of  the  speaker's  auditors  flew 


Katie  of 
Birdland 

37 


Katie  of 
Birdland 

38 


away  after  the  skylarks,  to  the  annoy 
ance  of  Mr.  Blackbird. 

"They  have  a  good  influence,"  said 
Katie  laughing,  "because  they  keep  us 
from  taking  ourselves  too  seriously. 
Sometimes  they  tease  the  doves  and 
say  to  them,  'Just  smile  and  be  happy. 
That's  what  the  world  needs.  If  every- 
one was  happy  there  wouldn't  be  any 
war/" 

"There's  a  good  deal  in  it,  too,"  I  said 
thoughtfully. 

"Yes,"  agreed  Katie/'that's  what  the 
whole  world  is  after-Happiness-but 
people  have  strange  ways  of  pursuing  it 
sometimes." 

"Was  that  a  drop  of  rain?"  I  asked 
suddenly.  The  sky  had  clouded  and  it 
grew  noticeably  darker. 

"My  gracious!"  Katie  exclaimed  in 
consternation,  "I  do  believe  those  owls 
were  right.  We  had  better  hurry  back. 
Besides  it's  nearly  time  for  our  noon 


meal  and  Mr.  Amsherst  never  will  eat 
a  bite  unless  I  am  there.  He's  posi' 
tively  foolish  about  me,  though  weVe 
been  married  quite  a  while." 

So  we  hastened  our  steps  toward 
the  pheasant  house.  More  drops  of 
rain  were  falling  and  I  realised  with 
sudden  dismay  that  my  hat  was  not 
waterproof.  Katie  scuttled  in  through 
the  door  Mr.  Proud  had  left  open  for 
her.  "Good  bye,"  she  said,  "I  do  hope 
my  husband  hasn't  been  worrying  about 
me." 

"Let's  not  say  good  bye,  but  au  re- 
ro/r,"  I  amended. 

"Oh,  yes,  indeed,"  she  agreed,  cocking 
her  head,  "you  must  come  again  very 
soon  and  we'll  have  another  promenade 
together." 

I  would  have  liked  to  linger  and 
prolong  the  farewells,  but  I  saw  that 
Katie  was  concerned  about  Mr.  Ams- 
herst's  state  of  mind  and,  as  I  know 


Katie  of 
Birdland 

39 


Katie  of 
Birdland 

40 


how  that  is  myself,  I  didn't  attempt  to 
detain  her,  but  waived  my  adieus. 

"I  must  stop,  for  a  moment  and  apol' 
ogize  to  that  old  owl,"  I  thought  to 
myself,  as  I  hurried  along  the  path, 
"even  though  I  do  get  a  drenching." 

But  the  owls  glared  at  me  uncom' 
prehendingly.  The  one,  who  had  fore' 
told  the  shower,  had  his  head  perked 
on  one  side  in  a  very  saucy  way  as 
though  he  was  thoroughly  enjoying  the 
discomfiture  of  those  who  didn't  take 
advantage  of  his  weather  prophecy.  I 
tried,  in  vain  to  talk  to  him  but 
couldn't  make  myself  understood. 
Though  he  and  his  mates  were  mutter- 
ing, not  a  sound  was  intelligible  to  my 
ears  and  I  was  forced  to  admit  that 
the  magic  of  the  day  was  over-I  no 
longer  understood  bird  lore.  Perhaps 
the  rain  dispelled  it;  perhaps  it  required 
the  presence  of  a  bird  sister.  That  is  a 
problem  I  have  yet  to  solve. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  AT  LOS  ANGELES 

THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 

This  book  is  DUB  'on  the  last  date  stamped  below 


QL  JUN 

•    IUN  1 


PZ 


S82k  Katie  of  bird- 


PZ 
10.3 
S82k 


3  1158 00295 


